On
Becoming A Jedi:
The Relationship between Master and
Apprentice
Submitted by N.P. Jamilla
5/21/99
All photographs and drawings are the property of LFL, Ltd.
This article contains spoilers
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"The Force is what gives
the Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and
penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together."
-- Obi-Wan Kenobi instructing Luke
"Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate
leads to suffering."
-- Yoda instructing Anakin
From Luke’s first lesson in the Force to Yoda’s warning of the Dark Side in
Episode I, the new trilogy has taken the antiquated master/apprentice system and placed it
in the outer space fairy tale setting of the Star Wars Universe. Like the story of the
Bhagavad Gita, or of Marduke and Tiamat, George Lucas’ space opera teaches about the
good in all of us, as well as the dangers of evil.
Early in Star Wars: A New Hope, the relationship between Luke and his Jedi Master was
established as one of an untamed youth following the lead of an experienced Master Jedi.
Luke learns of Kenobi’s past as a hero in the Clone Wars and then develops a trust
and respect in the old man who opens his eyes to the powers of the universe -- the Force.
His instruction would continue under Yoda and eventually see its completion when he, like
Obi-Wan before him, sacrifices his life in order to save another. With literary twists of
the plot and the cinematic splendor of the silver screen, Luke is saved by his father,
who, in an act of selflessness, turns away from the Dark Side to the side of light.
This ageless battle between good and evil is a story that dates back millennia when
stories of heroes, gods, and the Fates commanded power in the world, intervening in mortal
affairs at their pleasure. There was no subtlety in their actions and the good or the
chaos the gods sewed on the lives of humans were inconsequential to all but the
recipients. The gods of light represented order, truth, and justice. The gods of the dark
created disorder, lies, and evil. And beneath the tumult, mankind would attempt to eke out
an existence under the inconstancy of an immortal’s whim.
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But what differs between
ancient mythology and the approach in modern legends is the ability of Man to wrest
control of the world from omnipotent gods and establish his own order. No longer would the
focus be on the gods, but on Man himself. In England, the tale would be told of a king who
would fulfill a prophecy to unite the Britons under the banner of one lord. Seeking the
help of renowned soldiers, Arthur’s reputation and growing stature would assist him
in uniting the British Isles. With the guidance of an assembly of advisors-knights, his
loyal servants, dubbed Knights of the Round Table, would train an army to defend the crown
and repel invaders and the malevolent forces of his archenemy Modred. So too in the Star
Wars universe is there a Jedi Council of Jedi Knights who debate, advise, and then carry
out necessary duties to preserve the integrity of the state.
Knights, however, do not suddenly appear in the liege lord’s portcullis when
the call-to-arms is made, and recruits are not simply sent to a modern boot camp to be
molded into uniform soldiers. The Jedi order harkens back to feudalistic times when a
young pupil would be groomed, trained, and prepared for a role as a servant of peace and
justice. Following the medieval mode of a European squire’s education, the novice
Jedi, called a Padawan, is sent to be trained under a respected warrior. Closely attached
to kith and kin, a young man would learn his responsibilities in the home of a trusted
friend who would maintain an objective and paternal education until the squire was ready
to return to his family or enter service as a knight of the realm.
If training went well and a Padawan demonstrated his ability with the Force, he went on to
becoming a knight, a full member of the order. And with demonstrable wisdom and an open
seat in the council, a knight could go on to become a member of the circular Jedi Council
that makes decision on the fate of the universe.
Star Wars is an epic not about the gods, but about the frailties of the human psyche and
the oft-felt tragedies of suffering that befall mortal men. The prequels are a narrative
of a gifted boy’s rise to greatness and his fall from grace. As a slave, Anakin is no
stranger to poverty and suffering. He must win his freedom, prove his strength in the
power of the Force, and then receive the training of a Jedi knight under the tutelage of
Obi-Wan Kenobi. And so begins the formal education that relies as much in the
development of wisdom as it does in the fighting skills of a knight.
A Jedi’s training is far different from the classroom experience, relying much more
on personal instruction that emphasized a one-on-one imparting of expectations and the
more informal "tricks of the trade." It is assumed that basic skills are already
on the road to development, and it becomes the role of the Master to provide subtle (and
sometimes not so subtle) support and guidance. It requires the stern observation of a
master that educates not by carrying the student to a goal, but by leading him down the
road to mastery.
The Japanese social structure carries out this idea in the social position of the samurai,
a word that means "one who serves." A samurai was the guardian of society, and
eventually became its ruler when a military government, the Bukafu, took control of the
Japanese government. It seems analogous to the military control of the Empire in Star
Wars. Loyalty above personal desires was held in esteem. Loyalty to one’s family, but
more importantly, loyalty to one’s liege lord. It is a similar loyalty that makes the
Jedi order a servant of the galactic senate.
The Jedi master/apprentice system bears many
semblances to the traditional systems of Japanese martial arts. The relationship of the
two people, once begun, is not one of payment for services rendered. If fact, students of
a traditional system must go through an act of supplication in which he must convince the
Master to take him on as a student. And, as Luke attempts to convince Yoda that he is
ready to begin training, it is not until he has proved himself that a novice is ready for
more demanding training.
A good instructor will almost willfully ignore the student and his or her improvement. And
though immense progress might be made within a short period of time, the student begins to
expect praise and adulation. But it is better to give modest praise and save greater
accolades for much later down the line when it truly becomes clear that the student has
made a full commitment to learning the art. So until then, a grunt or a frown is the
student’s only praise.
As a student of kendo in Japan, I had a similar
experience. I approached the headmaster, properly addressed by the title sensei, of a dojo
(training hall) and asked permission to join. With a strong background in Western fencing
and Aikido, I learned the movement quickly and efficiently. But rarely did my sensei
praise me for by ability. Instead, he frowned when I became lazy, and constantly
encouraged me to work harder than before. For nine months I did basic drills during
two-hour practices twice a week, until one day I was told to bring in my armor to the next
practice. I began basic drills with the other students but I was quickly instructed to
seat myself on the floor. Sensei sat across from me putting on the breastplate and
protective skirt of the armor. I waited patiently. When he finished he got my armor and
preceded to place each part of my armor on my body, tying every cord into appropriate
knots, finally finishing with the tie that kept my mask, with its metal grill and tough
shoulder flaps, secured.
Once finished, savoring the moment of being duly knighted, I stood up and bowed to my
instructor. We drew our shinai, bamboo staves used in place of swords, and began a drill
called kiri-kaeshi, which involved repeated strikes to the head and then the belly. And
then kakari-geiko, in which the novice is given openings in which to develop fluid
attacks. The only difference between wearing armor and wearing none at all was that now I
could be hit with no fear of injury. Before, only I could hit my partners, but now,
wearing the accouterment of the armored warrior, I was fair game, and they could hit me as
easily as they could breathe.
Training in sword requires intense concentration and iron will. Unlike empty-handed
martial arts, where hits and punches can bruise or deliver an occasional abrasion,
swordwork, even when done with mock weapons and armor, represents a permanent blow that
could severely damage or even kill the recipient. It is with that severity of training
that a student must prepare, for one day he may confront an opponent armed with a real
sword.
Transfer that feeling to a Jedi, training with a weapon like a lightsaber. The potential
for injury on the lax or inexperienced wielder is great. Even the draw must practiced in
such a way that there is never the fear of self-injury. It is not the Force that enables a
Jedi to employ his weapon. It is nothing less than hard training that permits the
development of good swordsmanship.
But with proficiency comes the ability to exercise naked power. It is this hubris that
fools the swordsman into thinking that the power of the blade is a better and more
efficient tool than the exercise of the mind, which, with experience, is the exercise of
wisdom. Again it is Yoda who instructs that, "the Force must be used for knowledge
and defense. Never for attack."
The instruction of a swordsman is the creation of a fiercely independent individual. When
he discover his ability to use a weapon effectively, it becomes extremely difficult to
convince him that there are better ways to resolve disputes than with the sword. Soon he
forgets the elementary drills in favor of the quick and undisciplined techniques that are
meant to be used only on rare occasion. Foregoing fundamental movement and attacks, he
opts for the complicated and flashy moves. They will take the fencer far... but only in
the short run. Eventually, the fencer at the height of his career will begin to feel the
bite of declining health or of increasing age, or be challenged by a new generation of
faster and more virile youth. It is here where wisdom is the best ally of the Force.
Episode I, for the first time, elucidates details of the Jedi order. Of their role in the
galactic government. Of their members and numbers. Of their training and purpose. And it
is clear that it stays true to the mythological convention that good is good and evil is
evil. The Jedi Knights stand in defense of the weak to uphold law and order.
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Sith Lords, on the other hand,
represent the dissonance of order, the absence of good, and within their ranks, over
thousands of years, their numbers will dwindle because of power struggles, purges, and
betrayal. Again, like the Jedi, a master and apprentice. The relationship of the two
is one of mutual respect for the other’s power. Either the master shall die and the
apprentice will take over his role or the apprentice, in a struggle for dominance and
control, will betray the master. Which ever occurs, the symbiosis is maintained, albeit in
Leviathan struggle.
With the prequels, education and training will
become critical issues to the Jedi order. The state of Padawan training will be the key to
whether or not the Jedi Order will survive. A powerful boy, Anakin, is to be trained - but
will he have a master wise enough to guide him?
There is a feeling among all teachers that their students most reflect what is good and
bad in the instructor. Is Anakin’s eventual turn to the Dark Side a result of
Obi-Wan’s failings as a teacher? And does that in turn reflect Qui-Gon’s
failings to properly train Obi-Wan? Which ultimately reflects back on Yoda himself? This
is the dilemma all instructors, teachers, and masters encounter when they take on the onus
of educating the young. Education is an awesome tool of empowerment, but there has to be a
point when it is understood that responsibility for an apprentice’s actions become
the possession of the apprentice himself.
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Obi-Wan Kenobi as an old man
can look back at the past with the knowledge of his failure to keep Anakin from turning to
the Dark Side, but wisdom now clearly shows him the futility of righting the mistakes he
made himself. He takes it as his mission then to train Luke, who would later confront
Vader. But in order to do it, he must sacrifice his own life. Throughout "The Empire
Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi", Kenobi expresses his uncertainty of
Luke’s eventual success. In the end, of course, we, the audience, know that Luke must
succeed, but it is that uncertainty of how it will happen that makes hearing the story so
thrilling. Similarly, we know how the prequels will end -- Anakin will become Darth Vader.
The real question is how does he become Vader. And like all legends, from King Arthur to
Sleepy Hollow, even though we know the end, the idea of good conquering evil seems to be
an eternal tale that resonates with us mere mortals. Episode I follows in the tradition of
ancient mythology. It is a modern legend, and its story, the tale of a master and his
apprentice, will be one worth watching over and over again.
(N.P. Jamilla is a novelist and teacher in
Kensington, MD. In November 1997, he was approved by Lucasfilm Licensing to submit short
stories to West End Games. He has written two novels, Grey Eminence (a US/USSR thriller)
and Bridge Builders (a novel about the pope and an American Swiss Guard), which have not
yet been published. A graduate of Georgetown University in international relations, his
professors included former U.S. Amb. Jeanne Kirkpatrick and the present Secretary of State
Madelaine Albright. In 1987 he competed in the World University Games and the World
Fencing Championships. He also worked in the Supreme Court for two years, lived in Paris
for one year, in Japan for four, teaches fencing in his spare time, and has blackbelts in
Aikido, kendo, and judo.)